by Mandy Baggot
‘Lovely jubbly!’ Miltos said, clapping his hands together. Then he turned to Gavin and his forehead creased into seriousness. ‘Now, Gaveen, tell me, what do you do with your eyebrows?’
Fifteen
Andino Butcher’s, Sortilas
Michalis held the machete in his hand and looked at the large cut of meat on the chopping block in front of him. It was five a.m. and he hadn’t been able to stay asleep. It was hot. His family home had no air conditioning and there were only a few windows of the house fitted with mosquito nets. Still, no modernisations had been made in all the time he had been alive. Again, he did not know if this was because his father was lazy, tired or still just wanting to keep everything exactly as it had been before his mother had died. He’d also had another nightmare. He’d been in a hospital cubicle, the curtains drawn, the body of a patient in the bed beside him. But when he had gone to leave, the curtains would not open no matter what he did. He had woken up sweating, scared, pins and needles in his fingers like he had been clawing in reality.
Suddenly, he jumped. Had that been a noise outside? He held his breath, his heart pumping hard, the sound echoing through his ears. He looked to the door of the shop and out into the darkness. Was someone there? Creeping out from behind the counter, the knife still in his hand, trainers moving silently across the stone floor, he moved to the door, eyes staring into the blackness, searching the shadowy village square for sign of movement. He was holding his breath now, trying to stop adrenaline from flooding his body. And then there was a yowl that momentarily had him panicked, until he saw two cats springing out from behind the bins. Relief was instantaneous and he held onto that feeling until his heart got in line too. Returning to his position behind the counter, he drew up the knife still in his hand and slammed it down onto the meat with force. The slab of meat cleaved in two and the blade stuck into the wood. He wiggled the blade out. It was super-sharp. You wouldn’t want to get your hand caught beneath it. Particularly if one of your specialties was delicate surgery…
‘What are you doing?!’
Heart pulsing again, Michalis almost dropped the knife at the sound of his sister’s hissing and the machete fell onto the chopping block, missing his left hand by millimetres.
‘Nyx!’ he exclaimed, turning to face her. ‘How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on people?’
‘You told me around twice… when I was ten.’ She scowled, her blonde hair wild and untamed, shorts and a vest covering her slender frame. ‘You told me that more often than telling me if I did not eat vegetables I would not grow… and here I am.’
She had always looked tiny to him, always his little sister. But he knew how strong she was on the inside. How strong she had to be growing up without a mother…
‘And, again, what are you doing?’ Nyx wanted to know. ‘You are not a butcher.’
‘Ah,’ Michalis said. ‘I am not a butcher every day like you, but I am the son of a butcher and I have been taught the art from a young age, just like you.’
‘So,’ Nyx said, still scowling and seeming to widen her body and edge him out from behind what was usually her spot in charge of the establishment. ‘You think you will come here and start up again? Just like that?’
‘No, well… OK, I could not sleep,’ Michalis admitted.
‘So you thought you would take over my job?’
‘No,’ Michalis said. It was really more a case of putting himself in his father’s shoes, trying to reconnect with Dimitri’s everyday life and figure out exactly what was going on with him. All the talk about the village dying and the need for grandchildren had to stem from somewhere. And Michalis really hoped that it wasn’t Dimitri’s health.
‘Good,’ Nyx replied. ‘Because you are doing everything wrong.’ She went towards the sink and began vigorously scrubbing at her hands. ‘You did wash your hands, I hope? Because being a butcher is exactly like preparing for surgery.’
‘I scrubbed up to my elbows,’ Michalis confirmed.
‘Right,’ Nyx said, coming back over to the block. ‘So now you have literally butchered this calf, what are you going to do with it?’
‘I…’ Michalis hadn’t thought that far ahead. His dissection of an animal was rusty. He had only thought about trying to get into his father’s head, not into the internal cavities of the baby cow. Perhaps it had been both selfish and stupid.
‘Chuck,’ Nyx said, taking hold of the animal’s shoulder. ‘For burgers, flat-iron steaks, ribs, medallions and meat for stews.’ She thumped a fist onto the breast of the animal. ‘This?’
‘Brisket,’ Michalis answered.
‘This?’ Nyx said, poking fingers into the calf.
‘Ribs.’
‘This?’
‘Loin.’
‘Which one?’
‘The sirloin.’
Nyx grinned. ‘You do remember!’
The door to the butcher’s shop suddenly opened and Nyx grabbed the machete before he could, raising it like she might throw it toward the person coming in.
The bell tinkled and Michalis took hold of Nyx’s weapon-wielding arm and drew it back. The figure creeping in was…
‘Papa!’ Nyx shouted with an annoyed sigh. ‘What are you doing?!’
Dimitri jumped. The shock on his face said that he expected to be alone when he opened the door. Michalis watched Dimitri put a hand to his chest and take a deep breath. He noted that his dad was dressed in the same clothes he was wearing last night…
‘What are you doing?’ Dimitri bit back. ‘It is not even six a.m.’ He sniffed, prowling forward. ‘And why is there a calf out here with its middle savaged?’ He stared at the animal from the customers’ side of the counter and then raised his eyes to the pair of them like he couldn’t work out which of them was to blame.
‘Do not look at me!’ Nyx exclaimed in horror. ‘As if I would carve the calf in two like that! This is all on your son, the doctor.’
Dimitri stared directly at Michalis then and Michalis was transported back to being five years old and getting caught with a spoon in the syrup destined to trickle over loukoumades (doughnut balls).
‘I was… paying some interest in the family business. Seeing if I might remember what to do.’
Dimitri snorted. ‘And it is clear that you do not.’ He stepped away from the counter, heading around it and towards the back of the shop that led to the stairs to their apartment.
‘Wait, Papa,’ Nyx said, budging past Michalis at speed. ‘We could show Micha how to do this correctly. Together.’
Dimitri waved a hand. ‘I taught you everything I know. You can show him if he is really interested.’
‘Papa, why are you up so early?’ Nyx asked, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Are you unable to sleep?’
‘Why are you so concerned with what I am doing?’
‘Because we care about you,’ Michalis jumped in. ‘You are behaving a little out of character.’
‘And what would you know of my character?’ Dimitri snapped a reply, turning in the doorway and facing them again, Nyx a barrier between them. ‘You have all the time been in Thessaloniki.’
Michalis shook his head. There was definitely something going on with his father and he wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. ‘I have decided. I will start up a small surgery in the village. I will open for a few hours on certain days, for the time I am in Sortilas.’
‘Really?’ Dimitri asked, tutting. ‘Did I not say that you were too good for this village?’
‘I think the village needs someone looking after their health again,’ Michalis said matter-of-factly. ‘I think, the villagers have forgotten everything I told them back before Coronavirus got out of control.’
‘Cigarettes are back,’ Nyx admitted with a nod. ‘Although Mrs Kanaris never really gave up. She would puff away when your back was turned.’
‘Where is your premises?’ Dimitri asked. ‘And your things? Do you even have a stethoscope?’
‘I will spe
ak to Melina today,’ Michalis said with determination. ‘If she has made my face into Superman on posters then she owes me. And, Papa, I would like you to be one of my first patients.’
‘Me?’ Dimitri asked, body language giving off his desperation to get out of this conversation.
‘You have started eating fish,’ Nyx stated as if that explained everything.
‘Well, you keep colouring your hair,’ Dimitri countered. ‘Are we to attend psychiatry appointments together?’
‘What is wrong with my hair?’ Nyx gasped. ‘Is it the fact I have some?’
‘You are not too old for the wooden spoon!’
‘You forget I have the machetes now!’
‘Stop!’ Michalis ordered. ‘Stop. Both of you.’
He watched his father and his sister both move their lips into identical firm lines, eyes fixed on each other, tempers simmering.
‘Is this how it has been all of the time while I have been away?’ Michalis asked.
Neither Nyx nor Dimitri said a word.
‘Perhaps I should make appointments for you both,’ Michalis suggested firmly.
‘There is nothing wrong with me!’ Nyx and Dimitri said in perfect unison.
‘I think the doctor in the family will be the judge of that,’ Michalis stated. He let that statement settle for a beat before continuing. ‘I will let you know when my stethoscope is ready.’
‘Pfft!’ Dimitri exhaled before marching off towards the stairs.
Nyx glared at Michalis as she stalked back behind the counter and grabbed a sharp blade, pointing it at him. ‘Do not even think about examining me. Or I will separate you a lot worse than you have separated this calf!’
Michalis shook his head. His family and other – dead – animals…
Sixteen
Villa Psomi, Sortilas
Lucie threw open the shutters in her bedroom. There were three sets. Two on the main wall opposite the bed and another set to the left, all with ludicrous views of the sea. The sun was already up, but there was slightly fresher air coming into the room now and the scent of salt water, heat and olive groves. How lucky was she right now? She leaned against the windowsill, looking out and breathing in, making a gentle stretching suggestion to her spine. And relax…
‘Lucie!’
She shivered. It wasn’t a beckoning that might accompany an invitation to swim or a call that breakfast was ready. This was a warning cry coming from downstairs, from Gavin’s oven bedroom.
Not wasting any time shouting back, she pulled a pair of denim cut-offs over her legs and padded over the aged floorboards towards the stairs that led the way down to the kitchen and then on to Gavin’s room.
‘Don’t make any sudden moves!’ Gavin announced once she got there.
Her best friend was underneath the sheet, its length pulled up to his chin, a terrified expression on his face. If this was no more than another insect, she was going to be cross her attempt at channelling mindfulness had been disturbed.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lucie asked him.
‘There!’ Gavin said, pointing to the bottom of the double bed.
‘Where?’
‘It’s camouflaged,’ Gavin whispered. ‘It’s brown and… oriental… exactly like this cover sheet.’
Lucie’s first thought was Gavin had drunk way too much of the wine in Vouni while she was being measured for a wedding that was never going to happen and that he was hallucinating. But then, on closer inspection, she saw it…
‘Aww, it’s a cute tortoise!’ Lucie stepped towards the bottom end of Gavin’s bed and had a better look at the animal. It was cute. Its turd-like head stretching out from its shell as it debated where to put feet down next.
‘I know it’s a tortoise! I’m not that stupid! But, you know, pet management wasn’t in any of the details I got from the travel company and… where’s its hutch?’
‘Well,’ Lucie said, putting a finger out towards the animal and watching it seem to debate how to react. ‘We haven’t fully explored the whole house yet, have we?’ And that was the strangest thing to say when somehow she had found the time to have her wrists, waist and ankles measured. Who knew what this wedding outfit was going to resemble…
There was a knock on the door and Gavin yelped, drawing his legs up to his chest under the sheet and sending the tortoise closer to him like it was now on a linen conveyer belt.
‘You haven’t booked another fruit van taxi, have you?’ Lucie asked him. If she ever saw another nektarini it would be too soon.
‘Not that I remember,’ Gavin stated. ‘But things did get a bit hazy between all those dessert rolls and you standing on a chair like Meryl Streep.’
Another louder knock ensued and Lucie padded to the doorway of the oven bedroom.
‘Wait! Luce! Don’t leave me with the tortoise!’
Crossing the pink-and-cream striped marble floor of the kitchen, Lucie pulled open the heavy wood door and in flooded sunshine and heat, followed by a woman in a pinstriped skirt suit who looked a little bit familiar.
‘Kalimera,’ the woman said, striding into the space without invitation.
‘Er, hello,’ Lucie replied. Now she recognised her. It was the woman from their welcome gathering in the square yesterday. The one trying to get everybody to drink goat ‘nectar’ and holding a big stick.
‘The studio building is no longer available,’ she stated, pointing across the courtyard at the lovely little annexe opposite. That was one corner of the property Lucie had yet to explore. But it gave off all the artist/writer studio vibes with sea views from its window and a cute terrace outside of it.
‘What?’ Lucie asked. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You are two, ne?’ the woman continued. ‘No more.’
‘Yes, it’s only me and Gavin but…’
‘Good,’ the woman said. ‘Then you do not need.’ She turned like she was about to leave again. That couldn’t be how things worked in Greece. Surely you didn’t walk into someone’s holiday home, tell them something they weren’t going to like and then leave again without discussion. And where was her authority? Did she own this house? She didn’t really look like a representative of a travel company…
‘Wait,’ Lucie said. ‘I mean… I really don’t think you can do that.’
The woman turned around again, eyeing Lucie like she might have insulted the entire Greek nation by questioning her authority. ‘I can do that.’
‘But,’ Lucie began. ‘We’ve… paid and…’ She stopped talking as the woman’s eyes turned all Vanya from The Umbrella Academy. Was she about to be bewitched?
‘Signomi. I have not formally introduced myself,’ the woman said, taking steps back into the kitchen space. ‘I… am the president of Sortilas and I need to take ownership of this studio for the health and safety of the village.’ She stuck her hand out then. ‘Melina Hatzi.’
‘Lucie Burrows,’ she replied, taking the woman’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
No sooner had their palms disconnected, Melina was unzipping and dipping her fingers into the leather bumbag around her middle and, producing antibacterial gel, she expertly squirted, rubbed and massaged in one quick motion.
‘I need a small space for the doctor,’ Melina informed matter-of-factly. ‘I had hoped that there would be some room at the back of the mini-market, but this is now filled with food for apocalypse purposes.’
‘Apocalypse purposes?’ Lucie queried. Surely after the shitshow of 2020 the world wasn’t due any more disasters.
Melina shook her head. ‘It is Ajax’s way. One year it is time travel. The next it is aliens. This year, the end of the world.’ She tutted. ‘The only good thing about that is if he thinks the world will end he cannot plan a theme for next year.’
Now Lucie was really thinking all the people in this village were mad.
‘The goat shed is not hygienic enough, so we need the studio,’ Melina stated.
‘Well… I… it isn’t really up to me.’ She sw
allowed, wishing that Gavin would get over his ridiculous panic about a tortoise and come and help her out. ‘It’s up to…’
‘Me,’ Melina stated firmly. ‘I have a key already. The doctor will move in later.’
‘Move in?!’ Lucie shrieked as Melina stepped back out of the house and onto the cobbled courtyard. No amount of beautiful dappled sunshine was going to boost her mood now.
‘Yassas!’ Melina called, waving a hand as she walked away.
‘Lucie!’ Gavin screamed. ‘The tortoise is growling at me!’
She needed Gavin to start manning up, and quickly! Corfu had been his destination of choice. If he was this shit-scared of creatures, perhaps he would have been better looking at a caravan break in the Isle of Sheppey instead of an isle belonging to Greece.
‘Gavin! Get out of bed and get out here! Someone’s moving into the studio unless you help me stop them!’ She rushed out of the front door in a bid to halt this woman who seemed to be in charge of just about everything. ‘Excuse me! Excuse me! Wait a second.’ The woman was already disappearing into the distance…
‘Take it from me! Take it!’
Suddenly Gavin was next to her, the bed cover tied around him like a sarong, exactly like that morning after the night before the eyebrow/hair incident. He had the tortoise held precariously between thumb and forefinger like it might be soiled hospital sheets or something odd from The Other Sharon Osbourne’s lunchbox…
Lucie took the tortoise out of Gavin’s grasp and put it down under the shade of the herb garden. There was definitely rosemary and thyme in there, and she made a note to remember to use the fresh, fragrant leaves in anything they cooked later.
‘You can’t put it down here if it’s a pet!’ Gavin screeched, reluctantly picking the animal back up and folding the front of his sarong to create a hammock of material for it to sit in.
‘That strange woman from the square,’ Lucie began. ‘The one with the welcome wee-wee. She’s apparently the president of the village and a doctor is coming to commandeer the studio. This studio.’ She pointed at the adorable little building she had imagined having one or two nights sleeping in herself…